


Chamomile and Latex

by kiwoa (Rinoa)



Category: Glee
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinoa/pseuds/kiwoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine plans to someday be the man who treats Kurt right. Too bad he already has someone who treats him <i>right</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chamomile and Latex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/3381.html?thread=9521717#t9521717](/gifts?recipient=http%3A%2F%2Fglee-kink-meme.livejournal.com%2F3381.html%3Fthread%3D9521717%23t9521717).



> Set while Kurt's still at Dalton - let's pretend there are dorms that he lived in at first before he came home and started bringing Finn warm milk at night. Contains rough sex, including thumb play, hair-pulling, dirty talk, aaaaand kindasortamaybe unwitting voyeurism.

At first, Blaine thinks there's something wrong with Kurt. He's been acting weirdly skittish all day anyway - maybe he caught the flu or something? Then Kurt skips dinner without even a text, and that cements it in Blaine's mind. So when he heads to Kurt's room after dinner and nudges the door open just a smidge, winning smile in place and tea in hand like a good soon-to-be-boyfriend, he expects to find Kurt curled up in bed, ready to be tended to. Instead, Kurt's on the edge of his bed, back to the door, his frame tense and his fingers peeping out from the bulky sleeves of a letterman jacket to knot in the bedspread. For a second, Blaine is mesmerized; Kurt has his head tipped back and past the mussed hair he can just barely see his lax, panting mouth and the slope of his throat, littered with small bruises. Small _bites_. If it wasn't for that (and the fact that he can see both of Kurt's hands), he'd think Kurt was engaged in something... solo. Something Blaine could potentially join in on. You know, bat his hands away and lean in over him and-

Kurt lets out a high-pitched gasp. From between his legs, someone chuckles, low, muffled, "Something wrong?"

"Not fair," Kurt hisses. "I've had that stupid thing in all day! Take it out already!"

"That's not the deal," the someone says, and Blaine's eyes widen as that mohawk guy _Puck_ pops up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You visit me, I wear the plug," Puck continues, and he punctuates that statement with a slow kiss. "I visit you..." He smirks. "You wear it, and I get to play."

"Aren't you tired of playing?" Kurt huffs. Blaine thinks that lower lip looks ripe for biting; it stings more than a bit when Puck leans in and nips.

"M'never tired of playing with you."

" _Puck_."

Puck sighs. "Alright, alright." Then he's wrapping his arms around Kurt and before Blaine can even track what's happening, Kurt has his chest pressed against the mattress. Puck stands behind him, murmurs "Little wider, baby," and grins when Kurt spreads his long, pale, bare (and from what Blaine can see of his chest, it's bare too underneath the letterman jacket) legs impossibly more. Running a hand up Kurt's back, pushing that jacket up, and yep, that is the only thing keeping Kurt from being completely naked, Puck whistles.

Kurt tries to glare over his shoulder. "Could you please not nnnnn-" Red washes over his cheeks, and then Kurt's face is lost into the bedspread. For his part, Puck smirks so hard Blaine thinks he can see molars.

"Sorry, babe," Puck says, "were you saying something?" The muscles in his arm ripple, flex, and Blaine can only imagine what that hand's doing. Soon enough, Kurt's keening, but instead of shushing him (gently, petting his back, giving him soft kisses, what else would you do?), Puck grabs a handful of hair and tugs. "You want this thing out, or you want the whole dorm to know what's going on?"

Kurt moans, half-formed apologies lost in the hitch of breath as Puck works at the plug buried in him, and Blaine's starting to slowly back away when it happens - Puck looks up from that pert, perfect ass in front of him to smile almost fondly in Kurt's general direction, and then his eyes flick to the cracked door. His mouth slits open just a bit in surprise and when his gaze lands on Blaine, they both freeze. For a second, Blaine thinks he's going to die; there's no way that guy with that haircut and those arms and the _gall_ to pull Kurt Hummel's hair is going to let him walk away from this.

Kurt's growling (seriously, _growling_ ) brings them both back to the here and now. "Puck," he says, exasperated, "what in the world has your woefully swollen head so addled that you're just standing there, not-"

In one swift movement, Puck pulls out the plug with one hand and presses Kurt's head back down to the mattress with the other. He stares Blaine down with a smug grin as he says, "Just the sight of your sweet ass, babe. So open and ready, just for me."

Kurt is lifted up into Blaine's line of sight then, pulled up by a firm hand tangled in his precious hair, and despite his best efforts not to look, Blaine drinks it in - the bitten lips, the fluttering eyelids, the bobbing throat. Kurt's pink mouth forms, "Harder," and his head jerks up a little bit more.

"Playing rough tonight, huh?" Puck looks like the cat that just ate the canary. Blaine thinks maybe he is. "I can do that." He lets go of Kurt's hair, lets Kurt fall back down to the mattress, where he rolls his back up into a hunch and rubs his face into the bedspread. Sure tan hands undo Puck's fly, shimmy his boxers low enough to expose, and then slip over Kurt's thighs and up, up, until they're pulling and parting and oh, Blaine should not be looking at this, but Puck is _huge_.

Puck pauses. "Bare?"

Kurt's voice is absolutely fiery. "You haven't cheated on me, correct?"

"Course not."

"Then bare."

Puck bounces a little on his heels, grinning like a giddy kid in a candy store, and he lets go of one cheek to grip his cock and squeeze. "You got it, babe." It's almost unbelievable how quickly the atmosphere gets broken for Blaine after that; Puck's so careful with his motions, spreading lube from the shiny slick plug (and presumably Kurt's hole) over himself, tongue prodding at his upper lip as he works slow and methodical. It doesn't seem to throw either of the participants off, though, and as soon as Puck's pressing himself home, a cocky eyebrow lift aimed at Blaine, the mood's right back. Kurt whines underneath him, clawing the bedspread and rocking his hips as far back as he can stretch.

"Quiet there," Puck says in a stage whisper. "You wouldn't want someone to hear, would you?"

He gives a shallow, rolling thrust, and Kurt breaks off into voiceless pants of breath.

"Wouldn't want someone to come see you spread out like this? All needy, begging to be fucked?" Puck pushes in until his fingertips burn white with strain against Kurt's hips. "Wouldn't want Blaine to have you like this?"

Blaine stops breathing. Kurt exhales, "No, you. Only you. Please."

Puck's hips sway a little faster then, stuttering between quick shallow thrusts and long draws, hands kneading at Kurt's ass, playing, pulling. "Say it again," Puck grunts.

"All yours," Kurt chokes. "Only yours. Puck. Please."

"What do you need, baby?"

"I... ah... more, Puck."

With a deep grin, Puck spreads Kurt's ass wider. Blaine can't see what's actually happening, but from the motion of Puck's hands and the shifting, shuddering line of Kurt's jaw, he can picture it - blunt thumbs playing at the rim, skidding over slicked skin. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," Kurt moans.

"Tell me."

"I need more. I-" And his voice catches there as Puck rolls his hips hard, drives himself in deep. "I want more of you inside me," Kurt finishes in a gasp.

Puck's hips cant back as his hands press forward. Blaine's eyes widen and Kurt's mouth drops open and Puck licks his lips. "I can see inside you, baby," Puck chuckles.

Puck spreads his hands. Kurt bites down on a throaty yell.

"That is so cool," Puck says. "Can't believe you can take that."

"I _want_ it," Kurt moans.

"Yeah, that too." He plays just a little more, his hands driving in small thrusting circles, grinning wider and wider with every squeak Kurt lets slip. Blaine knows the exact moment Puck's cock grinds back in from Kurt's face; his tongue slips out just a bit and his eyes screw shut.

Puck grips Kurt's ass (from the outside and the _inside_ , and if Blaine wasn't burning with jealousy before...) and picks up the pace. "You good?"

"Puck," Kurt says, his voice, his lips wavering. "Puck, _Noah_ , I-"

"I know it." A slow stroke then, easing as far out as he can without slipping loose and sliding back in languorously, Puck breathing in synchrony with Kurt, as if this is all that matters. As if this is more than just a fun time. Blaine swallows.

Kurt coughs then, or maybe not coughs as much as chokes on a whine, and Puck frees one hand and slides it under Kurt's belly. The request sings clear without any words - Kurt hauls himself up on shaky arms to grant Puck easy access. With Puck's hand around Kurt's (gorgeous) leaking cock, it only takes a few more thrusts before Kurt is exhaling reedy high notes and spurting cum into Puck's palm.

Puck slows his motions then, and Blaine watches Kurt's hair sway with the gentle cycles. It's not long before Kurt bucks back against him hard. He hisses, "Did I tell you to stop?" and Puck grins like a demon.

"You hungry?" Puck says, and he stretches his cum-covered hand to waggle it in Kurt's face. "'Cause I've got a snack for you."

Blaine's not sure what he expects to happen then; maybe Kurt yelping in terror, maybe Puck getting a heel to the nuts. Whatever it is he expects, it's not for Kurt to latch onto those fingers (though he avoids the thumb; Blaine thanks god for that) and _suck_. Puck moans, "You're such a good slut," and Kurt's tongue flashes out to swipe across Puck's palm. That sets off a stream of words, an absolute litany hailing Kurt's merits. "Your mouth is so hot," Puck says between hard thrusts, his fingers clutching at Kurt's tongue. "Not as hot as your ass, but still like a fucking furnace. You burn for me, baby?"

Eyes glazed, scanning blankly over the wall, so close to where Blaine's world is being rewritten, Kurt nods.

"You burn only for me?"

This time, a wordless cry accompanies the nod.

"That's right, you do. 'Cause no one else could do you like this. No one knows what a perfect cocksucker you are. No one knows how you like your hair twisted and your ass pounded deep." Puck snorts. "Not like the prissy kids here could even get that deep."

"Nnn," Kurt says around Puck's fingers.

"What was that?"

Puck slips his fingers loose, cups his hand around Kurt's chin and tips his head back, and Kurt says, "Noah. N-Noah!"

Puck groans loud, startled, and says, "Fuck, Kurt, do that again."

Blaine missed it the first time, but he sees it now, sees Kurt's frame tighten, sees the muscles in his stomach, his thighs, his milky white ass stained red with handprints clench.

"Oh god," Puck pants out shakily. " _Kurt_." Then he jerks forward, burying himself to the hilt, and his eyes roll back in his head. Kurt laves his hand with kisses and gentle licks until he comes back to himself and shakes off the thick of the haze.

Blaine knows that Puck's not showing off for him now; not with the fond, familiar way he's petting Kurt's hair, the closed mouth kisses he's freckling down the dip of Kurt's spine. He pulls out gently and Kurt sighs with a smile.

Then it's like someone flips a switch. Puck scrambles to hold Kurt, grasps his chin to keep their eyes level, and says, "You know I'm never giving you up, right? Not to Finn or Blaine or anyone."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Do you honestly think I'd want you to? You may be a thick-skulled moron, but you're my moron." He lays a hand on Puck's cheek and leans in for a soft kiss. Blaine takes a sip of lukewarm chamomile (chosen specifically to soothe) tea.

"Well," Kurt puffs out happily, "now that that's settled, could you hand me that horrible plug?"

Puck blinks at him. "Uh. What?"

Slim hands splay on Puck's chest, fingertips drumming, and Kurt pushes Puck onto his back with a lop-sided grin. "I wouldn't want all your hard work to leak out while I'm sucking you dry."

And that, Blaine thinks as he eases the door shut, is his cue to leave.


End file.
